


The Truth in Lies

by Tamuril2



Series: Walking in the Stars [12]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9127582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamuril2/pseuds/Tamuril2
Summary: AU. What if Garak never left the Obsidian Order? What if Bashir didn't get his enhancements? What happens when a loyal Agent of Cardassia meets the perfect mind to mold? No slash.





	

Elim first sees Bashir from across the market squire. The young, human male is slender and…well, Elim can’t think of any word to describe him, other than hallow. It’s as if the man walking about the stalls is merely a portrayal, a mask. Oh, the man smiles, but it’s always just a little too late. As if it takes time to process what’s been said.

How…different. Elim hasn’t had _different_ in quite a while.

He takes a further look at the dark haired human.

The man avoids being touched, if he can. He isn’t rude about it. No, not by far, but there is a hesitance when someone pats his arm, or offers a greeting. Or how he skirts around people, so that none of his clothes make contact theirs. Perhaps it’s a human custom? Elim isn’t as versed in that species as he would like.

Maybe it’s time he changed that.

That decided, Elim pastes on a smile, let’s his better half – Garak – take hold, and strolls over to the bakers’ stall. The owner, a greying Bajoran, stiffens as he catches sight of Garak. Ah, yes, Garak remembers this one. He had to, unfortunately, use a bit of…persuading…in their last meeting. The male didn’t quite understand – or accept, if one wants to argue semantics – the new regime. Garak put his errors to rest. 

Permanently.

Cardassia is here to bring order to a wild galaxy, and only by complete cooperation can they ever hope to succeed.

Needless to say, the Bajoran saw the benefits in his compliance to the State.

Elim mourns the butchering of Cardassia, the loss of its noble life. Garak sees the brilliance of it, and shoves whatever doubts he has behind him. 

“Solkar, my friend, it’s been too long.” He leans in and inhales the smell of fresh, baked dough. “Ah. Nothing but the best. One day, you must tell me how you do it.”

“Of course, sir,” Solkar says in return, bowing his head just a little in forced respect.

Garak sees the human watching their interaction with rapt attention. Good. He moves his next piece into place. “But I’m being rude. Solkar, introduce us, please. I fear, I’ve been remiss and do not know your guest’s name.”

Solkar takes a slow, deep breath – probably to calm his rebellious nature – and gestures with his right hand. “Garak, this is Jules Bashir, newly arrived from Earth Prime.”

“Mr. Bashir,” Garak says, and sticks out a hand. He’s read somewhere that this is how humans greet each other, and seen it in action once.

The human looks at his appendage a moment – long enough for Garak to worry his intel on this custom is wrong. But then, Bashir takes it, grasping Garak’s hand as if it were a rabid animal that might attack him. Intriguing. Garak makes sure to put a little added pressure when they shake. The man gives a slight flinch in return. Even _more_ interesting.

He simply _must_ have a chance to study this more.

“It is a pleasure to meet any of Solkar’s friends.” Garak finally let’s go of the human’s hand. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Bashir hides said limb behind his back. “As you just heard, my name is Garak. Tell me, have you tried the local cuisine? I highly recommend ‘Quark’s Bar and Dine’.”

The human’s eyes glaze over in panic for a moment, and Garak doesn’t miss the way his eyes dart to Solkar and then back to him. “…No?”

Garak almost frowns. The way the word is said is not wrong, just…odd. It’s drawn out, slow, uncertain. It implies the male does not know if this is the right answer or not. But that would mean…Garak isn’t actually sure what that means. Is he a new informant for the rebellion? If so, they should have waited longer before putting him out in the field.

How exciting!

Garak’s not had a challenge in quite some time, Solkar’s readjustment to the State aside.

“Then you must accept my invitation to dine with me there tonight!” Garak beams. It’s not just an invitation. It’s an honor. To be asked to eat with Tain’s second in command. Not many are given this.  

But the human’s brows furrows. “But…Kira said…said…”

Garak stiffens. Is the human _refusing_ his invitation?

However, Garak is distracted when Solkar almost leaps over his stall’s counter to get to the man. The Bajoran puts himself in front of Bashir, a visible wall of protection. Fear platers itself across the male’s face as he scrambles to right the wrong. “Apologies, sir, he’s new here. He means no disrespect. I’ll make sure he makes it to Quark’s tonight.”

Garak sees the string of emotion offered to him and plays with it. “Nerys? My, my, you _do_ get around Mr. Bashir. I didn’t know the Major was accepting guests of different species. She should have told me. I would’ve put out a _proper_ welcome.”

It’s obvious Nerys did not. How else can Garak explain Bashir’s lack of manners? To defy a direct invitation, and in public, no less. Bashir is either very uninformed, or defiant. Looking at the pale man behind Solkar, Garak can’t decide which option suites the male better.

Solkar almost seems to vibrate as he stands there. He glances back at Bashir. There is, surprisingly, indecision on the Bajoran’s face. His long fingers clench and unclench. Interesting. There’s something Solkar wants to hide from him.

That will never do.

“Perhaps I should escort Bashir home and have a chat with Nerys? I can’t have my Major failing in her duties.”

Sokar’s shoulders slump. Excellent. He’s made his decision, and gone with the one Garak hoped for.

“I can assure you, sir, the Major did not fail in her duty to Cardassia,” Solkar says as he looks into Garak’s eyes; steady and straight, so all can know he is telling the truth.

“Ah, then, Mr. Bashir is of the mind that he is above the law then.” Garak hardens his smile, clasping his hands behind his back. “I shall have to disillusion you to this idea, Mr. Bashir.”

Bashir tilts his head to the side, and then tugs on Solkar’s shirt sleeve. “Solkar, what’s –?”

“Not now, Jules!” Solkar snaps, in a rare show of irritation.

Bashir recoils back, hunching inward. “Sorry. Bad. Bad, Jules, bad. Sorry.”

What in the worlds….? Garak cannot even put a name to this new oddity. So, instead, he watches how Solkar will react to it.

Interestingly enough, Solkar’s shoulders fall altogether. He sighs through his nose, and turns fully to Bashir. “No, Jules. You did nothing wrong. I did say to ask me when you weren’t sure.”

Now, Garak is frustrated, as well as confused.

What is going on?

Solkar motions for Bashir to look at him.

Interesting. He does not touch the man.

Once the human obeys the unsaid commend of the Bajoran, Solkar continues.

“Garak believes you are being…bad…on purpose,” the Bajoran says.

Bashir’s eyes widen as he freezes. The human’s frightened gaze rushes to Garak, and he pushes past Solkar. The Bajoran tries to catch the man’s arm, but Bashir nimbly dances out of reach. He stops inches from Garak. By now, Garak is aware of the small crowd that is watching this interaction.

Wonderful.

Tain will be lecturing him until Sun Festival for this.

“Jules not bad,” Bashir whispers into his face, breathe smelling of old mint. “Jules good. Always good. Not bad. Jules sorry.”

What in the world?

“Come now, Mr. Bashir,” Garak says, taking a step to the side. He need not accept such a forward motion from this human. He is Second, and he will be respected. He rolls his shoulders back. “This groveling does no one any good, and only demeans us both.”

“Jules – !” the human tries again.

Solkar inserts himself, wrenching Bashir back behind him. The human pales at the direct skin contact, but doesn’t’ say anything more. Solkar lets go and gives a small bow of apology. He straightens. “Jules is impaired, sir.”

Silence.

Garak narrows his eyes in thought. “Impaired?”

“He…his brain development did not continue after the age of six, sir. He means no offence. Nerys took him in, after she learned of his poor handling on Earth Prime.”

Ah. Garak always did suspect the Major of having a sentimental side. How kind of her to offer him such a tender weakness. For both her _and_ Solkar. How very kind of her, indeed.

“I see.” Garak smiles again. “But he’s made a spectacle, and the Order cannot have that. I’m afraid Mr. Bashir will have to come with me.”

He signals two of his men. They separate from the alley’s shadows to his side.

“Please, escort Mr. Bashir to Base 43.” He tags an addendum on as he sees one of them grab the human roughly. “Now, now, Tora, there’s no need for that. I’m sure, if you ask Mr. Bashir nicely, he’ll come along without complaint. Isn’t that right, Solkar?”

The Bajoran nods. “Yes. Jules, go with them. I’ll tell Kira you’ll be late.”

“Okay,” the human whispers, his eyes wet around the edges as he tugs on his sleeves. “Jules go.”

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

Garak steps into the survey room, watching Bashir through the two-way glass on the wall. His heart skips a beat when he sees Tain has already arrived and is sitting in front of the human. Said man is wringing his hands in his laps as he sits on a wooden chair. There is a guard behind the human, at an easy stance. Garak glances at the second guard beside him.

“Has he begun?”

“Not yet, sir.”

Garak nods. Good. He wants to see this in person. Of course, he’d actually wanted to do this himself, but Tain’s will is to be obeyed, and Garak sees the mild rebuke this visit really is. He should have notified Tain of this right away. There will be words later on it. For now, Tain will take satisfaction in taking this interview away from Garak.

“So,” Tain’s muffled voice says through the speaker. “Tell me, Mr. Bashir, why are you here?”

Bashir plays with his hands more, pulling on his sleeves a few times. Tain waits patiently, as he always does. When Bashir does answer, it’s in a soft whisper, barely heard through the speaker, “Jules was bad.”

“Indeed?” Tain raises a ridged eyebrow. “And how did you accomplish that?”

Bashir’s forehead crinkles. “What’s…A-com-pish?”

Tain studies Bashir, leaning his elbows in his knees. “How were you bad?”

Bashir looks down again and shrugs. “Don’t know.”

“I see.” Tain glances over to the two way mirror. The ‘why have you brought this to me?’ flashes across the older Cardassian’s face. Elim gulps silently, while Garak gets his explanations in order.

Tain turns back to Bashir. “Does this happen often, Mr. Bashir, not knowing when you do bad things?”

Bashir bits his lower lip and plays with his sleeves more. Not ignoring Tain, Garak can see that, more….shutting out reality all together. Garak sighs. Of course, he just had to choose a subject that would be difficult. But maybe he can turn this to his advantage. Show it in a new light; one where Bashir is a blank slate, ready for the Order to write upon.

Yes. That will do nicely.

Garak readies himself as Tain steps into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“I really must send you more work, Garak, if you’re this bored.” There’s a hard look to the older Cardassian’s eyes; cold, and unequivocally dangerous.

“You said we needed someone to get on the inside,” Garak answers, folding his arms across his chest and making a show of studying Bashir through the glass. The human is staring off at the far wall, face slack of intelligence. The guard beside the man keeps glancing down at his unmoving charge. Garak makes a note that the young male needs more training in this area. He has the perfect station for the young upstart.

Tain joins him at the mirror. “And this will get us that?”

“What better, then soft clay, to mold?” Garak allows a small grin to show his teeth. “I doubt Bashir will regret us helping him.”

“Perhaps.” Tain narrows his gaze. “Have you given thought to what will happen should your Bashir grow smart enough to think for himself? He might sympathize with our enemies.”

“There is that,” Garak concedes.

“Good.” Tain turns on his heel. “I’ll leave it to you then.”

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

“You can’t do this, Garak!” Nerys hisses through the monitor. She leans forward, as if this might help Garak see how serious she is. It doesn’t disillusion Garak to the worry in her eyes. She’s posturing to gain more time, nothing more. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Ah, but that is where _you_ are mistaken, my dear.” Garak raises a finger to forestall any arguments. “He embarrassed the State today.”

“Embarrassed you, you mean.”

“My dear,” Garak allows his voice to harden. “I am part of the State.”

Silence.

Garak smiles. “I shall be taking care of our Mr. Bashir for a while. After all, it seems you have neglected to see to his knowledge of the rules. I can’t have him insulting everyone right and left, now can I?”

He turns off the monitor before Nerys can spit out her answer.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

Garak steps through the threshold of his door and watches, out of the corner of his eye, as Bashir does the same. The human’s eyes dart around the dark house like tiny flies. Garak waves away the guard Tain sent with them. “You may leave now.”

The male nods and walks back down the pathway to the road. He’ll probably report everything that was done from when they left till now. Garak expects as much, which is why he said little and showed with his actions. He can be trusted with this, Tain will see that.

“Computer, lights twenty percent.”

Instantly, the rooms are illuminated in soft light. Bashir gapes. At what, Garak cannot tell. No matter, it is of little importance.

“Come, you must be thirsty,” Garak says, motioning Bashir into the kitchen.

Bashir hovers nervously by the table. “Jules needs to go home.”

“You are home.”

            Bashir whimpers softly and hunches inward. “But Nerys…”

Garak pounces on this. “What did Nerys say?”

“Carddies bad.”

“Ah. Do other people say this too?”

Bashir nods.

Very good. It is no secret the Major is probably part of the underground rebellion, but it’s nice to have it verified. Garak can use this small intel to show Tain the genius of this plan. But first, to disabuse Bashir of the notion that Cardassians are “bad”.

“Come, Mr. Bashir,” Garak waves the human into the kitchen. “Let us culture your palette.”


End file.
